One Step at a Time
by Chrissy G
Summary: When a new tenant moves into the building, Elliot must face issues from his past while trying to keep Mr. Robot from interfering in his personal life. POV indicated at the beginning of each chapter.
1. Chapter 1

One Step at a Time

A Mr. Robot fanfic by Chrissy G.

Summary: When a new tenant moves into the building, Elliot must face issues from his past while trying to keep Mr. Robot from interfering in his personal life. POV indicated at the beginning of each chapter.

Chapter One

**_Cherie_**

The beginning of my third week in New York. It had been fairly uneventful up until that point. Place to live? Check. A fourth floor walk-up next to a quaint Chinese restaurant that makes awesome pork dumplings. Job? Check. Not exactly a career, but a step in the right direction. Writing freelance articles for an up-and-coming, weekly magazine would pay my bills for now. But if only someone somewhere would publish my novel.

My morning started out relatively normal. When I got up, I proofread the article I had finished the night before. I never considered myself to be very girly, but maybe that's why the magazine editor liked me. With the article attached to an e-mail and sent on its way, I went to take a shower. The water pressure sucked, but at least it was hot. Once I was dressed, I put on a little makeup and pulled my hair back. My cupboards and refrigerator had been looking a bit scarce, so I made the decision to make a trip to the grocery store. Perhaps this is where it went wrong.

Maybe there should have been some regret coming home with six bags full of groceries. After all, there were some things in these bags that I didn't necessarily need. I'd always been warned not to go grocery shopping hungry, but thankfully I knew how to make my money stretch. I felt the strain as I carried everything up the stairs. When I reached my door, I slid the bags up my arm as I dug my key out of my messenger bag. Just then, the bottom of one of the bags gave out. I flinched hard as a bottle of juice landed on the floor with a thud. Thankfully it didn't break. The thud however was followed by a small, metallic clinking sound. I realized then that my key was no longer in my hand.

"Oh, shit," I mumbled to myself.

I put my bags down and knelt on the floor. I could see my key at the bottom of the air vent. I didn't have my spare key on me. I didn't have anything with which I could retrieve my key from the air vent.

"Fuck!"

OK, don't panic. I can handle this. Just breathe. I sat down on the floor and took my phone out of my bag. I called the landlord, but there was no answer. Not that I expected there to be. I left a message and then started searching for locksmiths. As I scrolled through the search results, the door of the apartment next to mine opened.

I looked up from my phone. This was the first time my neighbor and I acknowledged each other. We had passed by each other a bunch of times, sure. But now, we were truly seeing each other for the first time.

His dark hair was short on the sides and longer on the top. He was dressed in all black. His blue eyes regarded me curiously.

"Everything OK?" he asked.

I gave him a sarcastic look. Obviously, I wasn't OK if I was sitting on the floor in front my apartment surrounded my grocery bags.

"I'm locked out," I replied.

"Where's your key?"

I point to the air vent. "Down there."

He regarded the air vent for a moment. Then he looked at the lock on my door before looking back at me. What was he thinking?

"I can help you," he said.

"Doubt it," I replied.

He shrugged. "Suit yourself." He turned and started towards the stairs.

What was I doing? He offered to help. Did I really want to sit there on the floor while my cold foods defrosted and spoiled?

"How exactly do you plan on helping?"

I probably sounded more skeptical than I intended. Still, he stopped and turned back.

"I can get you inside," he said.

I stood. "Fine then. Give it a shot."

He pulled a small tool from his pants pocket and knelt down in front of my door. He slid the tool into the lock. A few wiggles and twists, the locked clicked. He turned the knob and the door swung open.

"Glad you're using these skills for good," I said as I gathered up my bags.

He shrugged again. "Something like that." Then he grabbed the bag closest to him and handed it to me.

I should introduce myself. And find out who he is. "I'm Cherie by the way."

"Elliot," he said with a nod.

There was a pause as I thought about my next move. With introductions out of the way, I felt the need to do more than just say "thank you". Elliot really saved my day. It felt a little awkward, but I had to ask.

"Do you…wanna come in?" I asked.

"Oh," Elliot said. His eyes shifted to my apartment and then back to me. "No. Thank you."

Rejected. "Oh. OK."

"Actually, I was…on my way out."

Right. "Right." Of course. "Of course. Well, thanks for your help. I'll see you around."

Elliot nods. As he turns to leave, he pulls up the hood of his sweatshirt. Then he heads down the stairs.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

**_Elliot_**

****Here I go again. I tried to convince myself that I wouldn't do it, but hacking people was my obsession. My addiction. Much more than morphine ever was.

The day before. I awoke in the morning to hear a rustling out in the hallway. I didn't think much of it as I got up and got ready for my day. When I finally left my apartment, I found the source of the noise. The building's landlord was changing the locks on the apartment next to mine. He had paint cans, rollers and drop cloths sitting on the floor nearby. This particular unit had sat empty for months.

"What's going on?" I dared to ask, although I was pretty sure I already knew the answer.

"You're getting a new neighbor," he replied. "Finally renting this one out. Gonna fix it up a bit, first. She's coming in tomorrow."

I didn't know how to feel about this information. The apartment wasn't going to sit empty forever. I knew that, but I was so unprepared for this moment when someone new would come to occupy it.

"OK," I said and headed for the stairs.

Day one. The landlord had done his best to ventilate the unit, but there was still a lingering scent of paint in the air. A small moving van pulls up in front of the building around noon. Three people get out and start to unload. It takes them about three hours. Then they go to the Chinese place next door. When they return, they say their goodbyes and hug each other. Two of them climb back into the truck. The one left behind was a girl with shoulder length, wavy, light brown hair. She's dressed in a blue flannel, white tank top, skinny jeans and black boots. This is my new neighbor.

Day six. Darlene comes over and brings dinner. She noticed my new neighbor pass by in the hallway and questions me about her.

"So, what's her deal?" she asks, wiping pizza sauce off her face. I shrug and Darlene gives me a surprised look. "You haven't hacked her yet?"

"Trying to behave myself," I tell her.

She scoffs. "Since when?"

"Krista suggested it."

"Your shrink?" I nod. "Fuck that! Hacking people is what you do. She's just mad that you hacked her."

"Maybe I shouldn't have admitted that I did that."

"Or maybe you should have left out all the personal details you found." Darlene takes a sip of her soda before she continues. "I think you should hack the new girl."

"Why do you say that?"

Darlene shrugs. "You might just like what you find. And, seriously, when was the last time you got laid?"

"Fuck you."

"No, no. Fuck the new girl."

I smirk at her corny joke. "Just shut up."

Day fifteen. I blame my sister for what I'm about to do. She's a bad influence on me. Being a silent observer wasn't going to work any longer. I needed to hack the new girl.

Why the fuck did it take her so long to buy a modem? Well, I'm about to find out. I waited until she had left her apartment, thinking it would somehow weigh better upon my conscience. Then I sat down at my computer and the hacking began.

Her wi-fi was named WritersBlock with the password SaltyMarsh87. Cherie Jane Marsh. Born July 9th, 1987. She had changed her Facebook profile picture to a selfie in front of the building. Some of her status updates included links to her personal websites of short stories she had written. Her bank account didn't have much in it, but she had been in contact with the editor of Teen Sweets Magazine.

Suddenly her phone popped up on the screen. Wherever she had gone, she had just gotten back. Her calendar showed that she had an appointment later in the day. Before I could look into it further, there was a commotion in the hallway.

"Fuck!"

A new screen opened. She was calling the landlord. Then it switched to her searching the words "locksmiths near me". I turned in my seat and looked towards the door. She was locked out of her apartment. Perfect opportunity.

I grabbed my keys and my lock-picking tool. I stepped out into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind me. Cherie was sitting on the floor amid her grocery bags, searching for locksmiths on her smartphone. She looked up at me with brown eyes. Don't be weird.

"Everything OK?" I asked. Stupid question. I knew it, she knew it. She smirked at me.

"I'm locked out," she replied.

"Where's your key?"

"Down there." She pointed to the air vent.

I peered down into it. At the bottom, about two feet below us, was a silver key attached to a purple heart-shaped keychain. I looked up at her door. The lock that the landlord had installed was fairly standard. It would be easy enough to pick. I looked at Cherie.

"I can help you," I offered.

"Doubt it," she replied.

Well, I tried. "Suit yourself," I said with a shrug, and then headed for the stairs.

"How exactly do you plan on helping?" she calls after me.

I stop. She's not convinced that I can help her. Or she doesn't trust me. But since she asked, I turned to her.

"I can get you inside," I said.

She stood up. "Fine then. Give it a shot."

Gladly. I pulled my lock-picking tool from my pocket and knelt down in front of her door. I slid the tool into the lock. With the pins manipulated into the right places, a simple turn made the lock click. When I turned the knob, the door swung open.

"Glad you're using these skills for good," Cherie said, as she started to gather up her bags.

She was impressed, but pin tumbler locks really weren't that difficult. I shrugged. "Something like that," I said. Then I picked up the bag closest to me and handed it to her.

"I'm Cherie by the way."

Oh, right. Introductions. "Elliot," I said with a nod.

Then an awkward silence passed between us. What next?

"Do you…wanna come in?"

Come in? To her apartment?

"Oh," I said, caught off guard by the question. I steal a quick glance into the apartment. I had been inside there before, but…it was different now.

"No. Thank you." I said.

"Oh," Cherie said. "OK."

Shit. I'm giving off the wrong impression. Initiate back up plan.

"Actually, I was…on my way out."

"Right. Of course. Well, thanks for your help. I'll see you around."

I gave her a nod, reassurance that it would be pleasant to see her and possibly talk to her again. I pull up my hood and head down the stairs. I hadn't planned on going anywhere, but going back to my apartment at that moment would have made me look like an uber creepy psycho stalker. I'd rather stay a low-key hacker.

By the time I reached the front door of the building, I had a plan for where to go.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

**_Elliot_**

****Twenty minutes later, I arrived at Krista's. She was still running sessions out of her home office. I had called her on the way over, and though it wasn't our normal scheduled day to meet, she did have some time for me. I decided that I wanted to tell Krista about meeting Cherie. I knew that she didn't want me hacking people anymore, but I didn't feel any remorse about doing it.

I used the side door and a small chime sounded as I entered into a hallway. She had two chairs and a side table against the wall as an improvised waiting area. Before I had a chance to sit down, the office door opened and Krista stepped out. She gave me a small smile.

"Hello, Elliot," she said.

"Sorry to just…drop in on you," I said.

"I have some time before my next appointment. Please, come in."

"Thanks."

I walked into the office and she closed the door behind us. I sat down on the couch and she took a seat in the chair across from me. She placed a notepad on her lap and clicked a pen.

"Well," Krista said. "What would you like to talk about?"

I had already explained to Krista on the phone that this was something new, and assured her that I hadn't had an "incident" in nearly three weeks.

You know what I'm talking about, right? Well, if you don't, pay attention. You'll find out soon enough.

I avoided her gaze. She wasn't going to be happy with me when I tell her. "I hacked somebody today."

Krista inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled. Yeah, she was upset. "Who?"

It was then that I could look up at her and get to what was really on my mind. "My new neighbor."

"You want to discuss this?"

I shrugged. "I was curious. She's a bit…mysterious. Keeps to herself mostly."

"Female?" Krista asked rather inquisitively. I nodded. "Attractive?"

Really, Krista? "Well…yeah. A-and right after I hacked her, I got a chance to…interact with her."

"How did that play out?"

"She needed help. I stepped in. We made our introductions. And then…" I stopped. I couldn't figure out why I was having such a hard time with this part.

"What then?" Krista prompted.

"She invited me into her apartment. I…I wanted to, but…I just…I couldn't."

"I see. Which apartment did this new neighbor move into?"

I avoided her gaze again.

"Elliot," Krista says calmly when I don't answer. "Which apartment is it?"

I nervously rubbed my hands against the couch cushion. Breathe, Elliot. Inhale, then speak. "Shayla's old apartment."

Krista nodded, then wrote something on her notepad. This meant that she'd let it go for now but it was going to come up again later.

"Is this the first time you've interacted with this new neighbor?" she asked. I nodded. "And?"

"She seems nice enough. I…I kind of want to talk to her again."

"Are you considering pursuing a relationship with her? A friendship?"

I shrugged. I hadn't really had enough time to think about it.

"Elliot," Krista said. "You do realize that, if you choose to pursue this further, you will have to go into the apartment eventually?"

And there it was. I looked away again, but I nodded.

"We can work on that," Krista said. "Tell me more about your neighbor."

"She's a writer," I said. "I didn't get a chance to read anything she's written."

"Does she have a name?"

"Cherie."

Krista frowned. Something was wrong with that name. But what?

"Say that again?" Krista asked.

I repeated the name. Yeah, she was definitely freaked out. She uncrossed her legs and sat straight up in her chair. Before she could anything else, the door chime sounded.

"Elliot, I'm sorry," Krista said. "I have a new patient coming in."

"OK," I said.

"I do want you to keep me informed on this. I'm very pleased that you are reaching out to new people."

I nodded. We both stood and headed for the door. When I stepped out into the hallway, I stopped dead in my tracks. My eyes widened and my breath caught in my chest. No. No, no, no, no, NO! Fuck! This _cannot _be happening right now!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

**_Cherie_**

Inside my apartment, I heaved all of the grocery bags onto my small dining table. Once sorted and put away in their proper places, I was finally able to make myself something to eat. Just as I finished plating up a grilled cheese sandwich, my phone dinged. It was reminder on my calendar. With losing my key, I'd nearly forgotten my appointment. I knew that I needed to leave soon if I wanted to be on time.

I wrapped the sandwich in a paper towel and shoved a bottle of water into my messenger bag. Then I grabbed my spare key from my jewelry box. I kept a tight grip on it as I locked the door. Then I headed down the stairs and out to the street. I had gotten pretty good at navigating the city. It was only a quick train ride and a short walk.

The place wasn't that hard to find. When I walked in, I heard a chime sound. I sit down in the waiting area and look through the pile of magazines. None of them looked even remotely interesting. Maybe I could convince the doctor to subscribe to Teen Sweets. She probably has teenage female patients.

A minute later, the office door opens. I stand up and immediately freeze. What…the…fuck? I found myself standing five feet away from Elliot, who looked like a deer caught in headlights at that moment. No doubt I probably had the same expression. This was _not _how I pictured bumping into him again.

The doctor came up behind him. "Goodbye, Elliot," she said.

He turned to her and nodded, but his expression didn't change. He glanced back at me before pulling up the hood of his sweatshirt and walking out the door.

"Cherie?" I turned to look at her. She smiled at me. "I'm doctor Gordon. You can call me Krista if you like."

Seriously? Did she not just see me and Elliot staring each other down? Or was she ignoring it?

"OK," I responded flatly.

"Please," she said. "Come in."

We went into her office. I sat down on the couch and she took a seat in an armchair across from me. She picks up a file folder from the side table and starts to scan through it.

"So," Krista said. "Where do you want to start?"

"Can I ask a question first?" Krista nodded. "The, um…the guy that was just here…your last patient…um, Elliot…?"

"You two know each other?"

"Well, kind of. We live in the same building. We just met like, right before I got here." I shifted in my seat. "Is it OK if I talk about him?"

Krista sits back in her chair and sighs deeply. "Only if necessary. Can we agree to that?"

I nodded. I had so many questions that I wanted to ask. So much more I wanted to know about Elliot. It seemed that Krista was strong in her ethical code and doctor-patient confidentiality. It put me a bit at ease knowing that anything I said to her was safe.

"Agreed," I said. "I'm just…I'm not sure how I feel about him yet. He is…intriguing.

Krista nodded. "It would benefit you to have a friend here. Right now, let's focus on you. What was behind your decision to move to New York?"

"I'm a writer. Or, rather, I want to be. New York seems like the place to be if you want to create art."

Krista nods. "And how are you adjusting?"

"Fine. I mean, I've got a place to live. I'm writing freelance for a magazine. I possibly have a new friend."

We both gave a small smile at this. Then Krista looked down at my file again.

"How are you getting along with Debbie?"

I scoffed. "My aunt's a bitch."

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

"Don't be. I'm at a point in my life where I don't need her anymore."

"She's your family."

"Whatever. She's just glad to get rid of me."

"Did she say that?"

"Not to my face."

"OK." Krista looked at my file again. "Are you still taking your medication?"

I nodded. I really didn't have a choice. Those times when I went off the medication were the darkest days I ever faced. I would never go back there willingly. Just the thought of it made my wrists itch.

We wrapped up our session and Krista set me up for weekly appointments. I thanked her for seeing me and headed back to the train station. I got a good vibe from Krista. Better than my last shrink. But the issue of Elliot also being her patient loomed over me. I hadn't wanted him to know this about me and I was fairly certain from his reaction that he hadn't wanted me to know that about him either. So, where do we go from here?


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

**_Cherie_**

****After a few more errands, I made my way back to the apartment. I was still confused, and a little bit nervous, about how to deal with Elliot. But when I reached the fourth-floor landing, there he was. Standing in the hallway, just waiting. I had to pull it together. This was going to get hashed out here and now, and I was not going to back down. He watched me intently as I approached him.

"Hello," I said slowly.

"Stop seeing Krista," he said firmly.

I blinked. "Um, excuse me?"

"Did I stutter?" He took a step toward me. "Stop. Seeing. Krista."

I folded my arms across my chest. "What's the magic word?" I asked sarcastically.

"This isn't a request, chickie."

What did he just call me? "No. And who the _hell _do you think you are trying to tell me what to do?"

As I turned to leave, he grabbed my wrist. I turned back quickly, doing the only thing I could think of in that moment. I brought my knee up hard. My aim was slightly off, making contact with his stomach. It was enough for him to let go of my wrist and drop to the floor. He was doubled over in pain, struggling to get his breath. I quickly unlocked my door and rushed inside, doing up the locks behind me.

1001110

**_Elliot_**

Shit. What happened? Black out again? Let's assess. I had a pain in my stomach and my breaths were raspy, barely getting any air in. I was laying on the floor of the hallway. I looked up to see Cherie's door slam shut.

As I lay there trying to force air into my lungs, I searched for the missing pieces of information. What _did _I remember? Being in my apartment. Pacing the floor. Worrying about Cherie being Krista's new patient. But then…nothing else until just now. This isn't good. I was able to get to my knees, my breaths coming easier. I stood up slowly.

"We need to talk," I managed to say.

"Yeah, we do."

My incident-free streak had ended. I saw him standing nearby. The same as always in his worn-out baseball cap, glasses, flannel shirt, jeans, and the jacket that inspired my name for him. Mr. Robot. He was there. He had taken control. He fucked things up.

"I tried to help," he insisted.

"A lot of good that did," I replied, rubbing my stomach.

"Cherie needs to stay away."

"You don't get to decide that. What did you say to her?"

"Calm down."

No, I will not calm down. I grabbed him by the front of his jacket and shoved him against the wall.

"What happened?" I demanded.

"Will you _stop _doing that? Do you know how crazy you look right now?"

"Tell me what happened!"

"Fine!" He pushed my hands away. "You were freaking out about Cherie. So, I went and asked her to stop seeing Krista."

"Asked her or told her?"

"OK, told her. But she said no."

"And then?"

"I may have tried to stop her from walking away."

Shit. "What do you mean?"

"I grabbed her wrist and…"

"She kneed me in the stomach."

"I think she was aiming lower."

I shook my head in disbelief. "So that's it then? You just do whatever the fuck you want and I take a beating for it."

"Jesus, Elliot. You were getting yourself all worked up over this girl. I tried to push her away."

"Maybe I didn't want you to push her away."

"Oh, really? And what exactly are you planning to do when she finds out that you talk to your dead father? That we switch personalities?"

I stared down at the floor while I contemplated this. When I had hacked Krista, I looked at my file. She had diagnosed me with multiple psychological disorders. I was pretty messed up. But that wasn't justification for me hurting Cherie.

Wait. Me? No, not me. Him. Mr. Robot. Whatever. But Cherie thought it was me, so I'm the one that has to fix it. Damage control.

When I look back up again, Mr. Robot is gone. All the better. I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Krista. She was quick to answer.

"Elliot?" she asked when she picked up the call.

"Yeah, it's me," I replied.

"What's going on?"

I take a deep breath. "He was here."

"Mr. Robot?"

"Yes."

"Alright. Tell me what happened."

I explained everything to her. What I knew, and what Mr. Robot had told me. She listened quietly while I talked.

"What do I do?" I asked her.

"Apologize," Krista replied.

"It's not that easy. Not for me."

"No, it's not. And this isn't going to be as simple as saying the words 'I'm sorry.' You'll need to make it genuine. Something that demonstrates to her that are truly remorseful. You already know a lot about Cherie. Use it to your advantage."

A plan started to form in my mind. I knew what I had to do. I thanked Krista and ended the call. I went into my apartment to collect the supplies that I needed. Then I got to work.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

**_Cherie_**

****I was safe, but I was not OK. I knew that Elliot was down for the count. I knew that the locks on my door would keep unwanted people out. Still, the all too familiar feelings had crept in.

My chest tightened. My breaths were quick and shaky. My eyes stung as tears started to well up. This isn't good.

I dig around in my bag. I find my earbuds and untangle them. R in my right ear, L in my left. It had to be done this way. I plug into my cell phone and find my playlist titled Calm. Soft, instrumental music starts to play.

I sit down on my couch with my head tilted back and my eyes closed. I cleared my mind, focusing on the music. Pianos. Strings. Cymbal flourishes. Deep breaths, inhale and exhale.

Then, a sudden jolt to my body. Apparently, the music had been working too well. I had fallen asleep. I sat up, rubbing my eyes and stretching my back. I checked the time on my phone. It had only been an hour. Not too late yet. As I stood up, I finally noticed it. There on the floor, partially tucked underneath my door. I walked over and picked up the envelope, turning it over in my hands. On the opposite side was a handwritten note.

_I'm sorry._

_-Elliot_

I quickly tore the envelope open and looked inside.

"No way," I said to myself.

I reached into the envelope to remove a silver key attached to a purple heart-shaped keychain. It was the same key that I had lost down the air vent. It was the keychain that my best friend had given to me on the day I moved in. I wrapped my fingers around it and held it to my chest. I could only imagine how labor intensive it had to have been to retrieve it.

It was a peace offering. An olive branch. I had to address this heartfelt gesture. I unlocked my door and stepped out into the hallway. I knocked loudly on Elliot's door. A moment later, he appeared.

"Can we talk?" I asked.

Elliot hesitated, but nodded. He stepped out into the hallway.

"You got my note?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said. "How the hell did you get my key?"

He shrugged. "I have a cordless drill and a wire hanger."

I gave him a small smile. "Resourceful, aren't you?"

He shrugged again. Then he folded his arms across his chest, looking down at the floor. "I, um…I didn't…hurt you…did I?"

"No," I assured him. "No, I'm OK."

He nodded. "Good."

"But you did scare me."

He looks up at me. I can see on his face that he was bothered by this statement. How was this the same guy I saw earlier?

"I'm not usually like that," he explains. "It's just…seeing you there…it really threw me off."

"I'm not going to stop seeing Krista."

"No, it was wrong of me to ask you to do that."

"You're damn right it was. But, you are like, the first friend I've made since I moved here."

Friend. Was that too strong of a word? No. Definitely not.

"So," I continued. "Unless there's anything else…"

Elliot shook his head. "No, nothing else."

"Well, then. I accept your apology."

He breathed a little sigh of relief. "Thank you."

"Thank you for getting my key back."

An awkward silence passed between us. Was there something else? No. Not right now, at least.

"Well, goodnight," I said.

"Goodnight," Elliot replied.

Then we each headed back to our own apartment.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

**_Elliot_**

****It was fortunate that Cherie had allowed me to talk to her in the hallway. In my hurry to answer the door, I had forgotten to minimize the page on my computer screen. While waiting for her to acknowledge my note, I had brought up Cherie's website and began reading some of her stories. After making amends, I went back to my computer to finish reading the story I was on.

She had written a couple of fluffy romance stories, but this one really caught my attention. It was a horror story. The female protagonist was being haunted by the ghost of her late brother. Even though his death was an accident, the brother blamed her for it. Crippled by the guilt and unrelenting hauntings, the girl attempts suicide only to have the ghost keep her from being successful.

I looked up from the screen. Why would she write a story like this? Connecting what I already knew about her, there was only one logical answer. Something had happened to her. Something really bad.

I looked back to her Facebook page for any clues. Months of status updates. Then it was there. She had posted about it being a really tough day. Friends commented with comforting words, and talk of guardian angels.

Death. But whose? Someone close to her. I had a feeling that I already knew, but I still wanted to confirm my suspicions. That date had significance, so I looked into it further and came across a newspaper article from 1993. There was a blizzard that winter that caused a huge pile-up on the interstate. The accident resulted in five deaths. Among them, Jonathan and Emily Marsh.

Cherie's parents had died. Yes, this is what I had expected to find. But I hadn't expected it to be both parents. Or to have been so tragic. Or for it to have happened to Cherie at such a young age.

I began to worry that I had gone too far. Had I dug too deep? I can't do any more of this tonight. I shut the computer down and climbed into bed, not bothering with getting undressed.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

**_Elliot_**

Over the next few days, I tried to figure out what the balance should be in my interactions with Cherie. Whenever we saw one another, we would exchange a greeting and ask each other how the day was going. I suppose this is what friendship is. The beginning of it at least. Still, I had to proceed with caution.

But I couldn't stop my mind from wandering to thoughts of Cherie. At work, I tried to keep focused on my tasks, even when I had overwhelming desires to check up on her. I knew that she was a passionate writer. So did her small group of followers. But would the editor of Teen Sweets see that? Would she take Cherie on permanently? Cherie needed the job. A lot of people needed jobs.

The economy was just starting to recover, but _very _slowly. I was one of those fortunate enough to have a skill set that was in demand. Even if I was overqualified for the job and my superiors were nearly ten years younger than me, I was making just enough to stay in my apartment and shop generic brands. So there I was, sitting at a computer for eight hours a day to protect the customers (who were paying $49.95 a month) from getting their personal information stolen.

On Wednesday evening (after a successful day of thwarting would-be hackers, scammers and phishers), I returned home and stopped in the lobby to get my mail. Mixed in with my usual stuff was a copy of Teen Sweets magazine. Before I checked the address label, I knew it had been put there by mistake. It belonged to Cherie.

Wait. Did this mean…?

I locked my mailbox and rushed up the stairs, two at a time. On the fourth-floor landing, I stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. Anxiety was going to take over my excitement if I let it. Slowly, I pushed myself forward to Cherie's door. My hand felt heavy as I raised it, knocking three times. The door opened and Cherie appeared, looking pleasantly surprised to see me.

"Hey," she said.

I offered her the magazine. "This was in my mailbox."

She looked down at it and her eyes lit up. She grabbed it from my hand and quickly flipped through the pages. Then she smiled brightly and handed it back to me, opened to the page she had been searching for.

"Look," she said.

I took the magazine and looked down at the glossy page. It was an article about the Do's and Do-Not's of shopping at thrift stores. It was accompanied by pictures of thrift store shelves and racks. Then I saw it. Underneath the large, boldfaced title.

By Cherie Marsh

I looked up from the article. She had a wide, excited grin on her face. "They hired you?" I asked.

She shrugged. "It's still freelance, for now. But they did ask me to write more. Sort of a…money-saver thing."

"That's good, right? I mean…you've got their attention."

"Uh, yeah. Um…"

Cherie suddenly got very nervous. She looked down at the floor, then bit her bottom lip.

"I wanted to ask you something," Cherie said. "And…it's OK if you say no. I…I won't be mad. Or anything."

"OK," I replied, not sure where she was going with this.

She looked up at me. "The editor invited me to a party on Friday night. They're celebrating hitting some big number in subscriptions."

"OK."

She inhaled deeply before continuing. "The thing is…I get _really _uncomfortable in large groups. Especially with people I don't know. But it would be good to network. So…would you…go with me?"

I needed to think about this. _Really _think about it. It was doubtful that any of Cherie's friends would be willing and/or able to make the trip from her hometown just for the party. Still, was I really the best choice? Socialization was not my strong suit, nor was I comfortable in large groups of people that I didn't know. But if I didn't go with Cherie to this party, the chances of her going by herself were extremely slim. That would mean missed opportunities for her to put herself in front of the big players at Teen Sweets. Missed opportunities to turn her freelance gig into a full-time job. Into a career.

I might have taken too long to think about it. When I didn't answer, Cherie made a plea to me.

"It wouldn't be a date," she explained. "Just, you know, as friends."

There was that word again. Yes, I did want to be her friend. Putting myself outside of my comfort zone for her benefit was the least I could do for her as a friend. I found myself slowly nodding my head.

"OK," I said.

"OK?" Cherie asked.

"Yes, I'll go with you."

She breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Thank you. So much."

We agreed on a time to meet and how we would get there. Cherie instructed me to dress nicely, but not too fancy. I returned the magazine and congratulated her on the article. She smiled and thanked me. We said goodbye to one another and I went into my apartment. Once inside, I set my backpack on the floor and leaned back against the door. I needed to process what just happened. I had a new friend. I agreed to go to a social event with her. Damn. Was I really making progress with this?


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

**_Cherie_**

Friday. Six-ten PM. I had to meet Elliot downstairs in five minutes. I checked myself in the mirror one last time. This counted as one of those times where it was necessary for me to wear a dress and heels. My hair was styled and I took the time to do full makeup. I needed to make a good impression tonight. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

"OK," I said to myself. "Let's do this."

I grabbed my bag and locked my door before heading downstairs. I saw that Elliot was already waiting on the front steps with a cigarette in his hand. When I exited the building, he turned and looked at me.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," I replied.

As he took another drag, his eyes shifted down and then up again. I was fairly certain he was checking me out. This little bit of attention brought a heat to my cheeks and I quickly looked away, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"You're ready to go?" Elliot asked.

I looked back at him and nodded. He finished his cigarette and tossed the butt into an old coffee can on the bottom step. Then we walked side-by-side to catch the train. We found a seat next to each other and were careful not to sit too close. A few minutes into our trip, I caught in the corner of my eye that Elliot was looking at me again.

"What?" I asked him nervously.

"Nothing," he said as he quickly turned away, embarrassed that he had been caught staring. After a moment, he spoke again. "Just thought you should know that you look nice."

I turned to him and gave him a once over. A break from his usual all black ensemble, he was dressed in a light blue button-down shirt and pleated, charcoal grey pants.

"So do you," I said.

When he looked back at me, our eyes met. He gave me a quick nod, which I returned with a small smile.

Just then, our stop was announced. We both stood and made our way out to the street. Elliot followed slightly behind me as I lead the way to the restaurant where the party was being held. A host greeted us and we were led to the banquet room. Elliot and I stopped just outside the open doors and surveyed the scene.

"That. Is. A lot. Of people."

"Yeah," Elliot agreed.

"OK," I said, taking a deep breath. "Let's start out by finding a server."

"Hors d'oeuvres or alcohol?"

"Alcohol."

Elliot pointed out a guy in a bowtie holding a tray of champagne flutes. We made a beeline for him. Each of us took a glass of the bubbly liquid that had a strawberry at the bottom.

"Fancy," I said, swirling the liquid in the glass. Then I took a sip. The little bubbles tickled my tongue and the added strawberry cut the dryness of the champagne. "Ooh, that is good."

"Cherie!"

I looked over to see the magazine editor approaching me.

"I'm so glad you made it!" she gushed. She greeted me with a hug and then held me at arms-length. "Oh, you look totes adorbs!"

"Thanks," I said, internally cringing at a middle-aged woman's attempt to use slang. I turned to Elliot. "This is my friend, Elliot. And this is Jill Hartman, editor of Teen Sweets."

"Would you mind if I borrow her?" Jill asked Elliot. "There are a few people I want to introduce her to."

We had only just arrived. I wasn't ready to jump into socializing just yet. I turned to Elliot, my back to Jill, and gave him a very serious look. He caught on right away.

"Could you spare a few minutes before you whisk her away?" Elliot asked.

Jill smiled. "Of course. I'll circle back to you."

Then she headed back out into the crowd.

"Thank you," I said to Elliot and I upended my glass.

"You're welcome," he replied. When I traded the server my empty glass for another full one, Elliot gave me a concerned look. "Are you going to be alright?"

"Yeah. Why do you ask?"

"You're downing champagne like it's fruit juice."

"That makes no sense."

"Cherie…"

"Lighten up. It's a party." Then I took another big gulp from my glass.

"You can't make a good impression on these people if you're shit-faced."

"Alcohol is the only way I'm going to be able to talk to these people."

He sighed heavily. "Then why am I even here?"

Harsh. But correct. When I didn't respond, he started towards the exit.

"Shit," I mumbled to myself and started after him. "Elliot, please don't leave me." He stopped and turned back to me. "I'm sorry. I just…I'm really nervous. I really want this to go well."

We both looked around the room before Elliot spoke again.

"Look," he said. "Jill Hartman _is _going to come back over here and take you around to meet people."

"Yeah, I know."

"So, how do you want to do this?"

"Just stay close by. If I really need a bailout, I'll let you know. Signal to you or something."

"And what if someone wants to talk to me?"

I gave him a curious look, but this seemed to be a genuine concern. This wasn't his scene. These weren't his kind of people. I'd put him in an uncomfortable situation for my own comfort.

"Well," I said. "Same deal. Fair enough?"

Elliot nodded. Just then, Jill Hartman reappeared. She put a hand on my shoulder.

"May I?" she asked Elliot.

"By all means," he replied.

Then Jill started to lead me off into the crowd.

"Tell me," she said. "Does your friend need a job?"

"Elliot?" I asked. Jill nodded. "Uh, no. No, he's good."

"I was just asking," Jill said casually. "We had to fire the mail clerk this morning."

. I stole a glance back at Elliot. He gave me a reassuring nod. In return, I gave him a small smile.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

**_Elliot  
_** Think I'd walk into this unprepared? Guess again. I had devoted some of my free time to looking through the Teen Sweets employee database. I knew the names and faces of everyone there, and I'd checked out all of them. For the most part, everyone was clean.

Well, except for the mail clerk who had filmed himself banging his girlfriend in the conference room after hours. Somehow the video got e-mailed to Jill Hartman, who promptly fired him.

I lingered along the outer fringes of the party-goers, keeping a watchful eye as Jill introduced Cherie to several people. So far so good. The right people were crossing Cherie's path. She was still enjoying the champagne a little too much. I worried about having to bail her out of a situation if it continued.

Just then, as Cherie was being introduced to the head of marketing, my cell phone dinged. I pulled it from my pocket to see a text from Darlene.

At your place. Where the hell are you?

This wasn't exactly the best time to tell her about my new-found friendship, but my sister needed an explanation. I had no doubt that she would keep bugging me until I answered.

I walked over to Cherie and tapped her shoulder.

"I'll be right back," I said quietly.

"Wait." She quickly turned to me and stepped closer. "Where are you going?"

"I need to make a phone call. Real quick."

"Oh. Yeah, OK."

"You're doing good. I'll only be gone a few minutes."

She took a deep breath and nodded. As I walked away, I glanced back to see her take another big gulp from her third glass of champagne. Yeah, I really needed to make this quick and get back to her.

I ducked into the alcove by the men's room and dialed Darlene's number. It rang twice before she answered.

"I'm like ten seconds away from eating your fries," she said. "What the hell is so important on 3rd ave that you can't take two seconds to text me back?"

"How did you know I'm on 3rd ave?"

She paused for a moment. There was no getting out of it.

"There's a tracker on your phone."

I was afraid of that. "I'm getting rid of it."

"If you can find it."

"Are you serious right now?"

"You still haven't answered my question."

"The girl next door asked me to go to a party with her because she has as much social anxiety as I do, but networking with these people might help her get a job writing for Teen Sweets."

Darlene was quiet for another moment. "Uh…OK. When did you start hanging out with the girl next door?"

"About a week ago. Look, just put my food in the fridge. I'll tell you more later."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, fine. Whatever."

"I'm still eating your fries."

"Go ahead. They're no good leftover anyway."

"Have fun!" she sing-songed before ending the call.

"Pain in the ass," I mumbled to myself.

I flipped my phone over and removed the back. Nothing out of the ordinary. Then I took out the battery and found a tiny metal disc with a blinking red light. I could understand Darlene's reasoning behind this; I had disappeared on her before. But if she could track me, so could a number of other people. People I didn't want tracking me. I couldn't have that.

I easily removed the tracker with my fingernail. After putting my phone back together, I went into the men's room and flushed the tracker down the toilet. I washed my hands just for show and headed back to the party. As I stepped into the banquet room, I was intercepted by one of the servers.

"Dude," he said. "You might wanna think about taking your girlfriend home."

"She's not my girlfriend," I responded.

"Whatever, man. I just hope you're the one driving."

Shit. I scanned the crowd and found Cherie sitting by herself at a table. Three empty champagne flutes sat in front of her, and a full one was in her hand. As I hurried over to her, I tried to think of an escape plan. How many excuses were there for leaving a party only an hour after arriving?

When I approached the table, Cherie gave me a dopey smile. "Hey! There you are!"

"I was only gone five minutes," I said. "How many drinks did you have?"

Cherie shrugged. "I lost count."

"OK, then." I took the drink from her hand and set it down on the table. "We should go."

"Sure. Your place or mine?"

"What?"

This question had come out of nowhere, catching me completely off guard. Cherie just giggled at my reaction. Surprised. Confused. Maybe a little nervous. We had to leave. Before her drunken antics cost her a job.

"Let's just go," I said.

"Alright," Cherie said.

Well that was easy. Cherie stood up unsteadily, giggling again.

"We'll decide when we get there," she said with a wink.

Jesus, this was getting really uncomfortable. What she was hinting at was probably the furthest thing on my mind at that moment. Cherie put her arm around me to steady herself. Normally I wouldn't have allowed this physical contact, but how could I deny it to a drunk friend in need?  
We managed to escape the party without incident. Outside the restaurant I hailed a cab. The fewer the people we had to encounter the better. Sitting side-by-side in the back of the cab, Cherie rested her head on my shoulder. She was too far gone to think straight or make any rational decisions. Whatever happens, it is entirely on me.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

**_Elliot_**

I'm still not sure how I managed to get Cherie up the stairs to the apartment. She leaned heavily on the railing the whole way, still giggling at every little thing. She had taken her shoes off in the cab and they were now in her hand, dangling from their straps.

My mind had been made up. I'd keep an eye on Cherie while she sobered up. At my place. That's it. As I was unlocking my door, I felt Cherie come up behind me. I tensed as her hands pulled at the fabric of my shirt, trying to untuck it. When I turned to confront her, her lips met mine. A split second of hesitation and I pulled away from her.

"Really?" Cherie asked, wiping her mouth with her fingertips. "Was it that bad?"

No, but… "You're drunk," I said.

"Yeah. The champagne at the party was _so_, _so _good." Then she giggled again.

"Listen, I don't know what you're expecting, but it's not…"

Before I could finish, Cherie's face went pale. She pushed past me into my apartment, her hand clasped over her mouth. She made it to the bathroom and I could the retching sounds as she threw up. I stepped into the apartment, unsure of what-if anything-I could do to help.

"Cherie?" I called to her.

"Don't come in here!" she yelled back. "Just give me a min…"

Then she threw up again. I hung back, waiting for the right moment. When the toilet flushed, I took a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water. When I went into the bathroom, Cherie was sitting on the floor. I offered her the glass of water and sat beside her as she started to sip it.

"Champagne tasted better going in," she said with a weak laugh. "I'm sorry, Elliot. I've made a complete ass of myself."

"You gonna be OK?" I asked.

She nodded. "I just hope nobody at the party saw me drink that much."

"I think they liked you. I mean, far as I could tell."

"Sure, right up until they triggered me."

There it was. Her weakness. "What did they say?"

She shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it."

It had to be something about her parents. It was logical. Understandable. "I don't like making small talk either. Certain topics just…get to me."

"Like what?"

I shrugged. She stared at me for a long while before taking another sip of her water. On some level, I think she knew. There was a commonality between us. She recognized that it was there without knowing what it was.

We sat together on the floor in silence until she finished her water. She handed the empty glass back to me.

"You're welcome to stay here tonight," I said.

Too much? No. Just a guy looking out for his drunk friend.

"Yeah, OK," Cherie replied.

I stood up and helped her to her feet. I lead her back out into the main room. Her first time here, she took a moment to look around. Her gaze came to my computer.

"Quite a setup you've got there," she said.

"Yeah. It's kinda my thing."

"Oh, right. You're a techie."

"Uh, yeah. Something like that." Then I gestured to the bed. "Go ahead. All yours."

"Where are you going to sleep?"

"The couch."

"Oh. OK. If you're sure."

"Yes. Do you…need anything else?"

"Uh…could you…turn around for a minute?"

"Oh. Yeah, sure."

I turned my back to her. Then I heard the zipper of her dress being undone. Holy fuck. Don't look. The sheets rustled as she settled into bed.

"Good night," Cherie said.

"Good night," I replied.

I set the empty glass in the sink and got myself a blanket from the closet. As I prepared my spot on the couch, I glanced over at Cherie. Her eyes were closed and the sheets were pulled up to her shoulders, covering everything that she did not want me to see.

It didn't change the fact that there was a half-naked woman in my bed. It didn't stop my imagination from creating images of what might be underneath the covers. It did nothing to calm my desire for a physical connection to her.

"Well?"

"Well what?" I asked.

"You're just going to stand there gawking?"

I quickly turned back. Mr. Robot was lounging on the couch.

"What are you…"

"Do you _really _think you can hide your thoughts from me, kiddo?" He glanced over at Cherie. "Quite a looker, too."

"She is a _friend _and she is _drunk_."

He sat up, placing his feet on the floor. "What I still can't figure out is why you care about her so much."

"You know what I'm thinking, don't you?"

He smirked. "Well, sure. But really, truthfully, is it A. She's a woman who is paying attention to you? B. She's Krista's patient and may be just as mental as you are? C. You have the dead parent thing in common?" He got up from the couch and stood directly in front of me. "Or D. All of the above?"

E. None of the above. "It's not like that."

"Oh, no? Because I can remember _exactly _what happened the last time you got involved with a girl."

No. Not that. Not right now. I tried to turn away, but he grabbed my face and forced my gaze back to him.

"Listen to me," he said. "Do not put yourself through that again."

"Elliot?"

We both froze. My assumption that Cherie was asleep turned out to be false. Had she heard the conversation? Me arguing with…myself? We glanced over at her, my breath held in my chest.

"Are you still awake?" she asked.

Relief. The argument hadn't taken a place aloud.

"Yeah," I replied. "You OK?"

"Mmm-hmm," she said. "I just wanted to say thank you. For, you know, being a decent guy. That's all."

"You're welcome."

Then she shifted herself under the covers from her side to her stomach. I looked back at Mr. Robot. He glared at me and let go of my face.

"This isn't over," he said.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

**_Cherie_**

I woke up to a creaking sound. The sound that a shower in an old apartment building makes when it first starts up. I had heard this sound every morning since I moved here. This morning, it was different. That much I knew.

My head ached terribly and my mouth was dry. I forced my eyes to stay open as I looked around. There was a couch across from me, a blanket haphazardly thrown over the back. I am sleeping on a mattress and box spring on the floor. I try to sit up, and the sheet slips down off of my chest. I am wearing my bra and panties, my dress neatly placed over the back of the computer chair. A regrettable decision may have been made last night, but I knew for certain that it wasn't having sloppy, drunken sex with…

Elliot. This is his apartment. I'm in his bed. Jesus Christ, I tried to kiss him last night! I needed to get dressed while he was preoccupied. I got unsteadily to my feet and slipped back into my dress. I found my bag and pulled out a hair tie. With my hair pulled back, I went into the kitchen and filled a glass with tap water. As I drank it, the shower creaked again as it shut off. Elliot knew I was awake.

A few minutes later, Elliot emerged from the bathroom. He was back in his all-black ensemble.

"Hey," he said. "How you feeling?'

"Like shit," I replied.

"You might need these."

He offered me a bottle of store brand acetaminophen. I took it and shook two pills into the palm of my hand. I swallowed them down with the remaining water in my glass.

"Thanks," I said.

An awkward silence passed between us. Elliot rubbed his eyes before he spoke again.

"Are you hungry?" he asked. "I…don't have much, but…"

My stomach did a flip at the mere thought of eating. "No, thank you. I…really don't feel like eating right now." Elliot nodded in understanding. "Listen. I, um…I wanted to thank you again for going to the party with me. And I'm sorry that you had to…take care of me."

Elliot shrugged. "That's what friends do for each other, right?"

"Well, we have both seen each other in a not-so-great light. I guess we really are friends now."

The corners of his lips lifted slightly, giving the smallest hint of a smile. There it was. That moment right there. A memory had been made.

"Anyway," I continued. "I should probably get going."

Elliot nodded and walked me to the door. We said goodbye and I left for my place. As I dug my keys out of my bag, footsteps were coming up the stairs. I looked over to see a dark-haired girl coming down the hallway.

She was leading a small, black terrier on a leash. She stopped when she saw me, taking off her heart-shaped sunglasses and moving them to the top of her head. Then she looked me over from head to toe. The dog obediently sat by her feet.

"New girl, huh?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah," I replied.

I had seen her before. She hung out with Elliot. Crazy thing was, I was still unsure as to the exactly what her relationship was to him. They often ate takeout together and I knew that she had spent the night there before. She was sometimes brash when she spoke to him in the little bit of conversation that I had picked up.

"I'm Cherie," I said, introducing myself.

"I'm Darlene," she replied. "You've already met my brother."

"Oh. Elliot's your brother?" Darlene nodded. This made sense now.

"You two cool?" she asked.

"What, me and Elliot? Yeah. Why do you ask?"

"Never mind. It's no big deal."

But it was. She wouldn't have asked me otherwise.

"Darlene," I said in my most serious tone of voice. "Is there anything I need to be concerned about with Elliot?"

She regarded me with a curious expression. Her eyes burned into me, searching for something.

"Something happened," she said. Not a question but a statement of fact.

I shook my head. "I'm not sure what it was, but…yeah."

"Give me your phone."

"What for?"

"So I can program my number into it."

I dug my phone out of my bag. I was surprised it had any battery life after not being charged overnight. I handed it to Darlene and she quickly programmed her number into it.

"I want you to call me," she said. "If you think Elliot is acting…differently." I nodded. She looked up from the phone. "Cherie, it's important."

That much I knew. What I didn't know was what exactly I was agreeing to. But for the things that Elliot had done for me up to that point, I owed him this much.

"Yeah, OK."

"Thank you," Darlene said. "So, I'll see you around?"

I nodded. She handed my phone back and I went inside my apartment. When I looked down at my phone, I saw that Darlene had added her number _and _Elliot's. She had put a wink emoji next to his name. Elliot barely knew me and Darlene didn't know me at all, but they were drawing me in. Had my curiosity been piqued enough to allow it? I wanted, _needed _to know more.

Just then, my cell phone dinged to alert me of a new e-mail. When I tapped the icon for my inbox, a mix of emotions came over me. The e-mail was from Jill Hartman.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

**_Elliot_**

All things considered, last night wasn't really that terrible. Cherie's trust in me was being rebuilt She didn't acknowledge trying to kiss me and I wasn't about to bring it up. Enough embarrassing stuff had already happened to her.

A few minutes after Cherie left, there was a knock at my door. When I answered it, Flipper came running in and went to her bed. Then Darlene pushed her way in, shutting the door behind her.

"I'll be mad about the tracker later," she said. "Right now, you need to tell me about Cherie."

"What do you want to know?" I asked.

"When were you going to tell me that you went Mr. Robot on her?"

I shushed her, stealing a glance at the wall that separated Cherie's apartment from mine. Then I looked back at Darlene. "How do you know about that?"

"I just talked to her out in the hallway."

I looked away, shoving my hands into my pockets. "She, uh…she doesn't know…about him."

Darlene gave me a confused look. "How does she not know? Did you or did you not…?"

"She thinks it was me."

"And you're just going to let her think it was some kind of extreme mood swing or something?"

I looked up at her again. "Do you really think it's that easy to explain to a person I have just met?"

"OK, you've got me there. But I still want to hear about her."

We sat together on my couch and I told my sister about Cherie. What I had found in my hacks, the rescue, the Krista factor, the confrontation with Mr. Robot, the sincere apology, and everything that had happened last night.

"So," Darlene said. "What happens now?" I shrugged. "Well, you like her, don't you?"

She was giving me one of those all-knowing smiles. I couldn't hide it from her. I nodded. But my unchanged expression chased her smile away and she became concerned.

"But?" she prompted.

"But he doesn't like her."

Darlene sighed. "He's not going to back down, is he?"

"No, I don't think so." I sat forward on the couch and pressed the palms of my hands to my stinging eyes. So much for a shower to wake me up.

"You look like shit," Darlene remarked. "Did you sleep at all last night?"

I shook my head. How could I with the power struggle going on? If I allowed myself to sleep, I would have unconsciously relinquished my control to Mr. Robot. I _had _to stay awake to keep him from fucking with Cherie again.

Darlene was one of the few people that understood this. "I could hang out for a bit," she offered. "If you want to sleep."

"OK," I replied. "Just for a few hours."

She got up and went to the kitchen to start the coffee maker. I looked over at Flipper, who was now lightly snoring on her bed.

"I thought you were going to keep her for a while?" I asked Darlene.

"I am," she replied. "But I need to keep my landlord from finding out about her. Just go to sleep, OK?"

I took my phone from my pocket, prepared to set an alarm to wake me up. But I got distracted when I saw an incoming text message. From Cherie.

"Darlene, how did Cherie get my number?" I asked incredulously.

She turned and gave me a mischievous smile. "How do _you _know that message is from Cherie?"

Touché. Then I read over the text message. Once. Twice. And again. Cherie was inviting me to have lunch with her tomorrow.

At her place.

1001110

I still couldn't sleep. It was no longer a matter of choice. My nerves were getting the better of me. All I could hear in my mind, over and over, was Krista telling me that I'd have to go into Cherie's apartment eventually. Every time I closed my eyes, I had flashbacks. One deep, dark thought crept in that terrified me more than anything; I really wish that I had morphine right now.

Krista would have an absolute bitch fit if she knew that I was thinking about it. But I wasn't the same person that I had been while I was on it. No, I couldn't go back to it. Not after all the things I had seen and done.

When it came time to meet Cherie for lunch, I was still suffering from sleep deprivation. The little bit that I had managed to get came from a few short naps. The thought did occur to me that I could have easily declined the invitation.

But I didn't. Because I did really want to see her again. So, after chugging a shitty energy drink and putting drops in my eyes, I was knocking on Cherie's door. She smiled at me when she answered.

"Hey," she said. "Come on in. It's almost ready."

Then she returned to the kitchen. I hesitated before forcing myself to step inside. I kept my eyes on Cherie as she lifted the lid off of a small pot on the stove and stirred its contents. Another bigger pot was bubbling away, steam rising off of it. Cherie looked up at me.

"It's nothing special," she explained. "Just pasta and alfredo sauce. Can I get you something to drink? Soda, juice, water…"

"Water's fine."

As she fixed my glass, I looked around the apartment. My photographic memory would not let me forget the way that Shayla had had it set up. The arrangement and aesthetic that she had had was very different from that of Cherie's. A chair where a table had once been. Decorated in brighter colors. Two bookshelves, both completely filled with works of fiction.

"Here you go."

I turned back to see Cherie offering me a glass of ice water.

"Thanks," I said, reaching for it.

Maybe it was the condensation on the glass. Or the fact that I had barely slept in the last two days. Either way, it slipped out of my hand and fell. Ice cubes and shards of glass were in a puddle on the floor. Cherie gasped when it hit.

"Shit," I said. "I…I'm sorry."

"It's OK," she said and she hurried to the kitchen to get something to clean up the mess.

I kneeled down and started to collect the larger pieces in my hand. Then, I was frozen. Broken glass. The girl next door. Shayla.

"Elliot?"

Cherie was standing over me with a dish towel in one hand and a small trash can in the other. I put the glass shards into the trash can, but not before a jagged edge caught my palm. My fingers curled over the cut, but Cherie still noticed.

"Are you OK?" she asked.

"I'm fine," I said as I stood.

"Elliot, you're bleeding."

I looked down at my hand. Crimson red blood had started to pool underneath my fingers. Cherie threw the dish towel over the mess and took my hand in hers. My fingers uncurled to reveal the cut on my palm.

"Come on," she said. "We'll get you patched up."

She started to lead me towards the bathroom.

Bathroom. Bath tub. Shayla, knocked unconscious by her drug-dealer, gang-leader ex-boyfriend.

"No!" I shouted, pulling my hand away.

Suddenly, I wasn't in Cherie's apartment. I was standing on a dark street. Sirens and alarms were blaring in the distance. I was staring down into the trunk of a car. Shayla's lifeless body was stuffed inside. Her shirt was stained with blood from the wound in her chest.

I couldn't save her. I did everything I was supposed to do, but it wasn't enough.

"Elliot!"

Back in Cherie's apartment. She was staring at me. Confused. Concerned. I slowly shook my head.

"I can't do this," I said quietly and I started for the door.

"Wait," Cherie said.

I turned quickly with my hand held up to her. "Cherie, please. Just…let me go."

Then I left her apartment and returned to my own. She didn't follow me. But when I looked around the apartment, I realized that I was alone. That familiar feeling crept in. My stomach tightened and my breaths were ragged. I slid to the floor and pulled my knees to my chest, sobbing uncontrollably.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

**_Cherie_**

Something was wrong. Elliot had fled. He was anxious, and scared. But this wasn't like the last time. No, he was angry and aggressive then. For this reason, I justified not calling Darlene.

One of the things I do as a writer is, I observe people. They are fairly routine and ritualistic in their behavior. In the few weeks since I had moved to New York, I had observed Elliot, and I knew his routine. Weekdays, he left the building at 7:30 to catch the train to work. He arrived back at the apartment between 6:30 and 7. On the weekends, he rarely left his apartment. Other than me and his sister, I never saw him socialize with anyone.

Whatever it was that had frightened Elliot so badly, I needed to give him time and space to work through it. But Monday came, and there was no movement, no sound from his apartment. He didn't go to work that day. He deviated from his routine. I couldn't sit by while he was suffering. I had to do something. But what?

"Nothing," Krista said when I phoned her.

"Krista, please," I pleaded while pacing the floor. "Elliot is my friend."

"I understand that, but you're asking me to violate my doctor-patient confidentiality."

I sighed heavily. "You've got to give me something."

Krista was the only one I knew who truly understood why Elliot had reacted the way that he did. There was a long pause. I could hear her contemplating what information she could give me, and still keep her code of ethics.

"When did you say this happened?" she asked.

"Yesterday," I replied.

"Where?"

"At my apartment."

"Interesting. What do you know about the unit that you're in?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, utterly confused. What exactly did I need to know about it?

"The history of it."

"Uh…no." I was still unsure where she was going with this, hoping it wasn't a paranormal route.

"Look into it," Krista encouraged. "Previous tenants and things like that."

There it was. The information she could give me without revealing too much. A clue to the mystery that is Elliot.

"Yeah," I said. "I'll, uh…I'll consider that. Thank you."

"Just tread lightly," Krista warned.

"I will. Bye, Krista."

Then I ended the call. A moment later, there was a knock on my door. I opened it to see the landlord standing there.

"Hello," I said.

"Miss Marsh," he said. Then he pushed a plastic bin across the floor with his foot. "Mailman left this for you."

"Great," I said sarcastically, as I looked down at the bin filled with envelopes.

Rejection. I could see some of them were stamped with "return to sender" and "unsolicited" in red ink.

"While I'm here, is there anything you need?" he asked.

A literary agent, maybe? But then a small nudge in the back of my mind pushed its way forward. Ask him.

"Actually," I said. "There was something I wanted to know. About the unit."

"Whatta ya wanna know?"

"Well, you had mentioned that it had been empty for a while. I'm just a little curious as to why."

He shrugged. "The girl who lived here before you died right around the time of the 5/9 attacks and everything. Just couldn't get anyone else in till now."

"How did she die?" I asked, secretly hoping that the apartment wasn't haunted by her spirit.

"She got mixed up with a bad crowd. Police ruled it a homicide, but they haven't caught the people who did it."

Jesus. This was it. As introverted as Elliot was, he had to have known the girl. Being in my apartment had triggered something. Memories. Flashbacks.

"One more thing," I said. "I'm concerned about my neighbor."

"Elliot?"

I nodded. "I haven't seen him since yesterday."

"Disappeared again, did he?"

Again? This is a habit?

"Anyway," I continued. "I haven't been able to get ahold of his sister. Do you think you could maybe…"

He stepped towards Elliot's door and tried the doorknob. "It's not locked," he said.

Why didn't I think of that? I'm such an idiot. "Oh. Uh…thanks."

The landlord gave me a nod and headed down the stairs. I waited until his footsteps had faded before stepping out into the hallway. I wasn't sure what I was going to do, but I knew I had to do something.

With a deep breath, I turned the knob and pushed open the door of Elliot's apartment. I carefully stepped inside, closing the door behind me.

"Elliot?" I called out.

Bed springs creaked in response. I crossed the floor and came to the bed. Elliot was looking up at me, surprised- but not angered- by my presence. The hood of his sweatshirt was pulled up. I could see redness in his eyes from crying. He wiped his nose on his sleeve before opening his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.

"You don't have to apologize," I said. "You don't have to explain yourself. Hell, you don't have to say anything at all. I just…I wanted to know that you're OK."

Elliot thought for a moment and then shrugged. Maybe this wasn't his best, but it had to have been better than it was.

"Do you want me to go?" I asked.

He hesitated, and I was pleasantly surprised when he shook his head. I sat down on the end of hid bed. He shifted over, making more space for me. So, I lay down beside him. There was a long silence between us, both of us on our backs looking up at the ceiling. Finally, I thought of something to say. The main reason I had invited Elliot over the day before.

"Teen Sweets hired me," I said.

Elliot turned his face toward me. "Really?" he asked.

"Yeah. They want me to do a money-saver article every week."

He sat up. "That's great. Congratulations."

"Thanks," I said, giving him a small smile.

"So, going to the party was a smart move?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

He was still looking at me. He didn't ask, but I knew he wanted more conversation. I took a deep breath and sat up.

"You want to know what happened?" I asked. "I was…talking. With the head of marketing. Telling him about college, and writing. He makes the comment, 'your parents must be so proud'. But the problem is, my parents are…not with me anymore. But when I told him that, he's all embarrassed and profusely apologized. That really gets under my skin."

Another silent moment passed between us. Then Elliot pushed his hood back, running his fingers through his hair.

"A girl named Shayla used to live in your apartment," he said. "But she…died."

"Were you close?"

"We were dating."

I resisted the urge to express my sympathy. I hated it, he probably did, too. We didn't need any of that right now. So, I offered him my hand. He hesitated before taking it in his, our fingers laced together.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

**_Elliot_**

****Mr. Robot is pissed. I shared something deeply personal with Cherie, opening up to her. From the moment I held her hand he began to lurk over me anytime she was near. He didn't say anything. He didn't fight me for control. But I could see him watching every interaction I had with Cherie. When she would leave, so would he.

Cherie was understanding of my breakdown in her apartment. Been there, done that. Once she started the new job at Teen Sweets, we would ride the train together. She didn't push me to visit her, but she would often visit me. We soon discovered a similar taste in movies, and planned a Back to the Future marathon night.

That day, Cherie texted me around lunchtime to say that she had an errand to run and would meet me at the apartment. So, after another monotonous work day completed, I headed home on the train by myself. I was used to being alone, but Cherie's absence that day felt strange to me. I got back to my apartment and as I was unlocking the door, the door to Cherie's flew open. I turned to see her staring back at me with desperation in her eyes.

"What are you on?" she asked.

"What?" I asked.

"Drugs. What drugs do you take?"

"Cherie, what…what are you…?"

"Your prescriptions, God dammit!"

She pushed past me into the apartment and went for the bathroom. I followed her, standing in the bathroom doorway as she frantically routed through my medicine cabinet.

"What are you looking for?" I asked.

"Anything," she replied.

She wasn't going to find anything useful. I didn't have anything close what she had been prescribed. And worse, she was starting to crack.

She started out of the bathroom, but I quickly blocked her path. I grabbed her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. She needed help.

"Cherie," I said calmly. "What do you need?"

She looked at me for a quite moment. Then her bottom lip started to tremble. She took a shaky breath before she spoke again.

"I need a fucking miracle," she said.

She clasped her hand over her mouth and started to cry. I led her over to the couch and we sat down together. She wiped a tear from her cheek and took a few deep breaths before she spoke again.

"I went to refill my prescription," she said. "And the pharmacy told me that because I had a change in employment, my insurance was no longer valid."

"How long before you qualify for it at Teen Sweets?"

"Ninety days."

It had only been seventeen. She was going to run out.

"What does it cost without insurance?"

Cherie let out a small laugh. "About eight hundred dollars."

One month's rent for a ninety-day supply of anti-psychotics. Think, Elliot, think. What else can she do? What are her options?

"I can _not_ stop taking it."

"Yeah, I know."

Withdraw. Symptoms include nausea and vomiting, changes in mood or behavior, hallucinations and…

"I tried to kill myself the last time," she admitted.

…suicidal thoughts or actions. Cherie rolled up her left sleeve to reveal a tattoo around her wrist. A closer look showed me that it was covering up a scar.

"I don't wanna end up in the psych ward again," she said.

"They could help you with the withdraw," I said. "You'd be on suicide watch."

Cherie shook her head while trying to hold back tears. "You have any idea how bad it is to be committed?"

"No. I've never been committed."

"Lucky you."

"But I have been incarcerated."

"What the fuck are you doing?" Mr. Robot asked me from his seat at the kitchen table.

But Cherie regarded me with a mixture of shock and curiosity. "Really?" she asked.

"It's a long story," I told her.

She nodded. Cherie had been accepting that were some things I wasn't ready to tell her yet. She didn't push me for more, and I showed her the same courtesy. Still, Mr. Robot watched over me, waiting for the moment I might slip and reveal all my secrets to Cherie. This was really starting to get on my nerves.

"Would you, uh…excuse me for a minute?" I asked.

"Can I trouble you for a drink first?" she asked.

"Help yourself."

She got up and headed for the kitchen. Meanwhile, I gave Mr. Robot a stern look and gestured for him to follow me. We went into the bathroom and I closed the door.

"What the fuck is your problem?" I asked.

"Do you really need to ask me that?" he retorted.

"Back. The fuck. Off."

"You _insist _on keeping her around despite my warnings. I'm trying to keep you from telling her too much."

"I _know _what I am risking."

"Do you?"

"Yeah, I do."

"And is it worth it?"

"I'm not answering that."

"Elliot…"

"Look, man. I get it. But we can't keep going on like this. We are past all that."

Mr. Robot let out a heavy sigh and held his hands up in surrender. "Alright, fine. But if you say _anything _to her about hacking, I'm stepping in."

This wasn't exactly the progress that I was hoping for, but it was something. So, I nodded in agreement. I flushed the toilet and Mr. Robot ran water in the sink for a minute. Then we walked out of the bathroom together. He stayed, but a bit more relaxed then he had been.

I headed back to Cherie, stopping short when I saw her sitting on the couch chewing on a brownie.

"Where did you get that?" I asked her, fairly certain the baked good wasn't there before.

Cherie pointed to the kitchen. My gaze followed her finger to a paper plate sitting on the counter. Its plastic wrap cover had been pulled back.

"Darlene left them," Cherie said. "There was a little note with them."

"If Darlene left them," Mr. Robot said to me. "That can only mean one thing."

Uh-oh. "Um, Cherie?" I said. "There's a…pretty good chance that's an edible."

Cherie stopped chewing. She inspected her snack and then looked back at me. "This is a pot brownie?"

I nodded. She set the brownie down on the coffee table and sat back on the couch.

"Well," she said calmly. "We are in for another interesting night."

1001110

"How are you feeling?" I asked Cherie.

Her gaze slowly turned to me, giving me a dopey smile. "I am so good right now."

Compared to when she had first arrived, the brownie had worked well to help her relax. She sprawled out on my bed on her back and I sat next to her, not sure how long it was going to last.

"Can I tell you something?" she asked. "I'm an orphan."

"You did tell me that," I replied.

"Did I?" she asked. I nodded. Then she rolled over onto her side, her head resting against my leg. "I might fall asleep on you."

"That's OK," I replied.

"It's just, the whole thing with my parents. I just don't get it."

"What? Why they died?"

"Why I lived."

"What do you mean by that?"

Her words scared me. Nothing could have prepared me for what she said next.

"I was in the car when it crashed."

Holy shit. How do you respond to a bombshell like that? You just can't. I went silent.

A moment later, Cherie was softly snoring beside me. I looked across the room at Mr. Robot. Neither of us said a word. But he knew. He gave me a nod. I carefully got up from the bed and went to my computer. Mr. Robot stood behind me, peering at the screen from over my shoulder.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

**_Cherie_**

****Sleeping it off at Elliot's apartment was starting to become a really bad habit. Once more, I wake up in his bed, fully clothed this time. I sat up and looked around. There was no sign of Elliot, but a folded piece of paper on the coffee table caught my eye. I picked it up to see a note telling me that he would be back soon.

But anxiety started to creep in. How long ago did he leave? Where did he go? How soon would he be back? Fortunately, that last question was answered just a few minutes later. The lock clicked and Elliot walked in.

"Hey," he said.

"Hi," I said. "Where did you go?"

He looked away, quiet for a long moment. Too long.

"Elliot?"

He looked back at me, as if I had snapped him out of a daze. "I…got something. For you."

"OK. What is it?"

Elliot reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out a small, white paper bag. The logo of the nearby pharmacy was on the front. No way this was really happening. I took the bag from him. I opened it to find a bottle of pills inside. I looked at it closer, checking all the information on it.

It _was _the medication that I use. It _was _my name and new address on the label. Denial quickly faded into elation. This was real. I looked up at Elliot and gave him a small, deliriously happy laugh.

"Oh, my God," I said. "I could kiss you right now."

Holy shit. Did I really just say that? At first, Elliot looks surprised at my statement. But then he shoved his hands into his pockets as he looked down at the floor.

"Reciprocity," he said with a shrug.

Elliot's eyes shifted toward me in a sideways glance, trying to gauge my reaction to his bold word choice. My heart was beating fast. Not because I had the medicine that I so desperately needed in my hand, but because the thought crossed my mind that I might actually kiss him. So, I moved in closer as he turned to face me directly, the space between us growing smaller.

My lips met his. They were soft, relaxed against mine. The few seconds that this first kiss lasted was just long enough to send an electric thrill through my body, forcing me to inhale deeply. I pulled back, and saw Elliot's eyes looking back into mine. I gave him a small smile.

"Better than my first attempt, don't you think?"

Elliot smiled at me. A genuine, amused smile Then he took his hands from his pockets and placed them on my hips. My arms wrapped around his neck as he drew me in for another kiss.

Strange. In the middle of this exciting new development in my relationship with Elliot, there was a small nagging at the back of my mind. Something I had initially overlooked when I saw my medicine bottle. I gently pulled away from the kiss.

"I'm going to pay you back for the pills," I told Elliot.

"No, you're not."

"You can't afford it any more than I can."

"I don't want your money."

"Too bad. How much was it?"

Before I could get a good look at the paperwork stapled to the pharmacy bag, he grabbed my wrist and snatched the paperwork from my hand. I quickly turned to look at him, completely surprised by his actions. But then I saw it.

His body was tense. His eyes were narrowed, burning into me. I tried to pull my hand away, but he kept a tight grip. Was this it? What I had seen before? What Darlene had tried to warn me about?

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Do yourself a favor, chickie," he said. "Stop worrying about where the pills came from and just be grateful that you have them."

That name. He had said it again. He was trying to scare me. Intimidate me. It had worked before, but I knew better this time around. I stood there, staring at him intently. What was it that I was missing? As I examined him closer, a strange thought crossed my mind. The person in front of me wasn't shy, quiet, reserved, or awkward. Because he wasn't Elliot.

He _wasn't _Elliot.

"Where is Elliot?"


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

_**Elliot**_

"How do you want to play this off?" Mr. Robot asked.

"Play off what?" I asked.

"You're about to show up with eight hundred dollars-worth of medication. Cherie's gonna get suspicious."

"Maybe not."

"Yeah, whatever."

The pharmacy tech called for the next in line, and I stepped up to the counter.

I had hacked my own medical records before. Doing it for Cherie was not as arduous a task as you'd think. Just a few minor changes and the local pharmacy was filling the prescription at no cost. I felt no guilt about doing this. Not in a country where people literally cannot afford to get sick.

Mr. Robot oversaw the whole task, but was still worried. I had to admit, I might have been a bit nervous that Cherie would question me about the meds. But she needed it. I could understand her desperation to keep her demons at bay. I had swallowed regurgitated Adderall, for fuck's sake.

When we got back to the apartment, Cherie was awake. She looked relieved to see me.

"Where did you go?" she asked.

I looked at Mr. Robot.

"Don't tell her about the hack," he said.

"No shit," I replied.

"Do you want to tag out on this?"

"Just wait."

"What the hell for?"

"To see how she reacts."

"Elliot?" Cherie said when I didn't answer her.

My gaze came back to her. "I…got something. For you."

I took the pharmacy bag from my pocket and held it out to her. She looked at it in utter disbelief before taking it. She opened the bag and removed the pill bottle, inspecting the label closely. Then she looked back at me and gave a small, nervous laugh.

"Oh, my God," she said. "I could kiss you right now."

Whoa. This was a reaction that I was _not_ prepared for. She seemed to be just as surprised as I was by the words that had come out of her mouth. She said it, but did she really mean it?

"Say something," Mr. Robot urged. "Before she changes her mind."

I shoved my hands into my pockets and looked down at the floor, giving a small shrug.

"Reciprocity," I said.

Bold of me to say, but I had to know if she really meant it. I looked over at her in a sideways glance.

"That's the _best _you can do?!" Mr. Robot asked.

"Just wait," I replied.

Cherie moved toward me slowly, and I turned to face her. Bodies close. Faces tilted. Eyes closed. Then her lips were pressed against mine. The sound of Cherie inhaling a breath began to spark something inside me. The kind of spark that reminds me that I am, at my core, a warm-blooded male.

A few seconds later, the kiss broke. I opened my eyes to see Cherie looking back at me. She smiled.

"Better than my first attempt, don't you think?"

I couldn't help but smile back at her. As I pulled her in for another kiss, her arms wrapped around my neck. Our lips met again and it felt…right.

But then she pulled away again.

"I'm going to pay you back for the pills," she said.

"No, you're not," I said. Not forceful. Not argumentative. She can't pay back something that cost nothing.

"You can't afford it any more than I can," she argued.

"I don't want your money."

"Too bad."

Dammit. Why did she have to be so damn stubborn?

"How much was it?" she asked.

Zero dollars. But I couldn't tell her that. I needed to keep that part of me guarded a bit longer. She was about to look at the paperwork attached to the bag. She would see it cost nothing. She would question me about it, and I wouldn't have a god enough explanation. Fuck.

Then, Mr. Robot pushed me aside and quickly grabbed Cherie's wrist, snatching up the paperwork. She looked at him with wide eyes.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Do yourself a favor, chickie," he said. "Stop worrying about where the pills came from and just be grateful that you have them."

No. _No. _He was trying to intimidate her. That wasn't what I wanted. He had given her a really bad scare the last time. But I didn't see any sign of fear on her face now. Just a slight bewilderment as she stared him down. She was looking at him intently, searching for something. Wheels were turning. Puzzle pieces were sliding into place.

"Where is Elliot?" she asked.

Holy. Shit. She knows.

Mr. Robot slowly let go of her wrist. He glanced at me, then looked back at Cherie.

"He's around," he said.

Cherie was quiet for a moment, then she nodded. "And you are?"

"I can't tell you that. You'll have to ask Elliot."

"Are you going to let me?"

"Depends on how much you want to know."

"Well, how much do you know about me?"

"I know you kissed Elliot."

Cherie looked away, a blush rising to her cheeks. That was supposed to be a private moment between her and I, but it was something that I couldn't keep from Mr. Robot. The close tabs that he was keeping on Cherie would not have allowed for it.

Then Cherie looked at him again. "So, what now?" she asked. "You gonna tell me to stop seeing Elliot, too?"

"No," Mr. Robot replied. "But I am giving you a warning."

"I'm not afraid of you."

"And you don't have to be. Until you have a reason to be."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You ask too many questions, Cherie. That might get you into trouble."

"Right. Anything else?"

"Yeah. One more thing."

He took a step closer to her. The next three words out of his mouth were neither a warning nor a menacing threat, but rather a sincere request. He looked right into her eyes as he spoke.

"Don't. Hurt. Elliot."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

_**Cherie**_

__"Cherie?"

_This _was Elliot. The intensity of his gaze just moments before had disappeared, replaced by curiosity. Perhaps a bit of fear, too. While he was trying to find a reaction on my face, I was searching for one inside myself.

"Say something," Elliot urged. "Please."

I was at a loss for words. How does one properly respond to information like this? All it did was spur more questions.

"Who was that?" I asked.

"It's…hard to explain," he replied, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Do they have a name? Something you call them?"

Elliot hesitated for a moment. "Mr. Robot," he said finally.

I held Elliot's gaze for a moment longer, wishing he had told me about this Mr. Robot. It would have made this moment less awkward. I was warned not to ask too many questions. Whatever Elliot would (Could?) tell me would have to be self-volunteered.

"Listen," I said. "This whole night has been really…" What was the right adjective? "…unexpected."

Elliot nodded in agreement. "I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to leave."

"Yeah, I'm…going to go," I said. Then quickly added, "For now."

"OK. I'll…see you later, then?"

"Well…yeah."

He nodded. "Just…think about it."

"Think about what?" I asked.

He shook his head as he shrugged. "Everything."

I could see in his face that he was searching for reassurance. He was scared. Afraid that me walking out the door would mean the end of any relationship with him. I put my hand to his cheek and his gaze met mine.

"I _will _see you later," I assured him. Then I held up the pill bottle. "Thank you, again. You don't know how much this means to me."

Elliot said nothing, but he nodded. Then I stepped out into the hall. But as I turned towards my door, I stopped. There was so much more that I wanted, and needed, to know. So, I took out my phone and sent a text to the one person I could trust to give me straight answers.

1001110

A short time later, I was sitting in a booth at a nearby diner. I'd started putting sugar into my second cup of coffee when Darlene arrived. There wasn't a greeting or any pleasantries. She placed her bag beside her as she slid into the booth, and she ordered a short stack of pancakes before she spoke to me.

"So," she said, crossing her arms on the table and leaning in close. "What's the sitch?"

"Does the name 'Mr. Robot' mean anything to you?" I asked.

Darlene's face went blank. Her chest rose with an inhaled breath before she answered. "Yeah, it does."

"I thought so."

She sat back in her seat. "So, you must have some idea as to what it's all about."

"Well…some."

Darlene gave me a sideways glance, intrigued by my reply. "What do you know about D.I.D.?"

So, I told her. I had taken psychology in school, but it was during a stay in the psych ward (my third visit) that I had encountered it firsthand. One of the other girls had the disorder and was committed after one of her multiples physically harmed her.

D.I.D. stands for Dissociative Identity Disorder, formerly Multiple Personality Disorder. It usually results as a defense mechanism for coping with severe childhood traumas. Darlene nodded when I said this. Just then the waitress arrived with the pancakes. Darlene smothered them in syrup before we resumed our conversation.

"Here's what I can tell you," she said. "There are…sometimes…when Elliot checks out. Something gets…too stressful, too emotional. Something sparks a _really _painful memory. That's when Mr. Robot steps in."

I nodded, because that much I understood. Elliot had been standing in front of me, physically, but my conversations were with Mr. Robot. Even though he was a part of Elliot, his tone of voice, his mannerisms and even his body language were entirely different from that of Elliot's. It was these differences that finally clued me into the possibility of D.I.D.

"You know," I said. "When I asked you if I needed to be worried about anything…"

"This isn't it," Darlene interrupted.

"Really?"

She cocked her head to one side. "How different would it have been if you'd known from the start?"

I tried to picture it. But I knew exactly how it would have been. If I had known from the start, I never would have gotten involved. At least, not to the point that things had evolved so far.

"Look," Darlene said. "They've battled with each other in the past, but this isn't something you need to be too concerned with. You know, unless…"

"Unless what?"

She gave me a coy smile and set her fork down. Then she placed her hands on the table, one on top of the other.

"What _are _your intentions with my brother?" she asked.

I couldn't help but blush, a silly smile forming on my lips. "We, um…we did kiss earlier."

Darlene's smile widened. "OK. And?"

I shrugged. "It's just…I don't think _he _likes me."

"Mr. Robot doesn't like anyone at first. It's only because he's looking out for Elliot."

_Don't. Hurt. Elliot. _I kept hearing that phrase over and over in my head. No, I did not want to hurt Elliot. I didn't have all the information, but suddenly my own mental problems seemed to pale in comparison to that of Elliot's. So, I had to ask myself; am I strong enough to handle a relationship with him? Is he strong enough to handle a relationship with me?


	19. Chapter 19

_**Author's note: Happy birthday, Cherie.**_**;)**

Chapter Nineteen

**_Elliot_**

I was startled awake by an alarm sounding on my cell phone. I reached over and grabbed it from the nightstand. When I swiped my finger across the screen to silence the alarm, a notepad app was open. There was only one sentence written on it:

Don't be late for work.

When I closed the app, I saw the time.

And the date.

Shit. How is it possible that it's Monday? Where did the last two days go? I tried to think back, and I got nothing. Radio silence. The last thing I remembered was Cherie leaving my apartment late Friday night.

Mr. Robot. He took control, and blacked out the weekend. Should I be mad? Well, what would I have done this weekend? Sit around my apartment, worrying about how Cherie was processing everything that happened, and what her ultimate decision would be. Did we know her decision yet? No. No fucking way. That is something he would not have kept from me.

I got up and dressed quickly, getting myself ready to face another work day. Finally, I slung my backpack on and headed down the stairs. Cherie was not out front. For a moment, I wondered if I should have knocked on her door. Would that have made me look desperate? Probably. I liked her. I had kissed her. I did not want this to end.

So, I would wait for her on the front steps. I lit up a cigarette, trying to clear my head of all the possible scenarios of the impending conversation. A moment later, the front door opened. But it was just a tenet from the second floor; a woman in her late thirties who continually gets ghosted by her dating-site hookups and spends late nights searching pet adoption sites for cats that she'll never adopt. Dressed in a crisp skirt suit, she doesn't acknowledge me as she walks down the front steps and heads down the street to her job as a bank teller.

"Hello."

I turn to see Cherie approaching from the other direction, a coffee cup in her hand. What do I say?

"You're out early," I observed.

"Yeah," she replied. "Needed a little pick-me-up. Didn't get much sleep."

A lot on her mind, maybe? "We should…get going. Gotta…catch the train."

She nodded. I came down the steps and started up the street, quickly realizing that Cherie had fallen behind. I stopped and waited for her to catch up.

"What's the rush?" she asked. Before I could answer, she took my hand in hers and looked me in the eyes. "Let's take it slow."

I glanced down at our hands; her fingers interlaced with mine. She wasn't talking about the walk to the train station.

"Keeping up with me isn't easy," I said.

She smiled. "I would like to try it though."

"OK."

"OK."

1001110

**_Cherie_**

No, I wasn't sure what I was getting myself into. But I had spent the weekend carefully considering everything that had happened. It was a lot, and it carried a heavy weight. There were several things that I knew for sure.

First, something had happened to Elliot in the past. Something that was so awful that his psyche had created Mr. Robot as a protector from whatever that was.

Second, Mr. Robot existed. He had made one hell of a first impression. The second impression was only slightly better. But, like it or not, he was a part of Elliot. A packaged deal.

Third, I still don't know where the pills came from, and I wasn't really sure I wanted to know. Elliot had mentioned that he had been in jail before, but he didn't tell me why. Maybe there was a connection here. But, how bad could he be if he was helping someone in desperate need?

And fourth, I was developing feelings for him. No matter how hard I tried, I could not ignore them. And I could sense that he felt the same way. It wasn't going to be easy, but it was something that I knew, without a doubt, that I wanted.

We continued on to the train station. It was still quiet, so I tried to think of something clever to say.

"You'll have to remember to thank Darlene for the brownies," I said finally.

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly in a small smile before he took the last drag of his cigarette. I do wish he'd do that more. Smile, I mean. Not smoke.

"It was rather amusing to watch you theorize about how time travelers should only visit on Halloween," he replied.

"What?" I asked, stifling a laugh. "I don't remember any of that." Jeez, what else did I say while I was high?

"Kind of made sense. Disguised in a costume. No one would know."

"Must have been something Back to the Future inspired. I'm sorry our movie night was interrupted."

He shrugged. "Another time."

"Well, how about a consolation?'

"What do you suggest?"

"Lunch? My treat."

He was quiet for a moment, thinking it over. "Like a date?"

Now it was my turn to think, carefully considering what the word meant in present situation but still knowing…

"Yeah, like a date."

Our first date, officially?

"Yeah. Sure. I'll, uh…meet you at your building?"

"Sure. Shoot me a text when you're on your way."

"OK."

"OK."


End file.
